The day has been long and tiring, and you just wanted to go home to collapse onto your bed.

Then you would sleep, awaken, and repeat today's cycle - over and over again.

Unless, of course, I decide to intervene.

You lift your gaze and glance around at the street, checking for any cars that might be coming your way. The only one in sight is at least three blocks away, you say to yourself. You could cross the street easily before it got to you. With unfaltering confidence, you step off the curb and start for the opposite side.

However, you never see the motorist that decides to make a sharp right, just on the street adjacent to you.

All life eventually ends. It is a fact, it is known by everyone. Even the tiniest of infants is aware of the truth that they, too, will one day cease to breath, cease to move, and cease to see. Some die in their sleep after living a long life filled with suffering and pleasurable experiences. Others die "too soon", as those that love them will call it, from a dreadful accident or an incurable illness that suddenly strikes. And a few handfuls will even die at the selected hands of others, either due to sick minds or sick desires.

But, no matter what, everyone will die.

It is my job, you see, to make sure that everyone meets a fitting end.

You are supposed to be struck by the motorcycle and its rider. Your body would be hit with a huge force going well over the speed limit, flinging you twenty feet. Still conscious, you would lay on the pavement while the blood slowly flooded your brain cavity. By the time the ambulance would arrive, you would already have severe brain damage. Before the paramedics even realize that, you would be legally brain dead.

Your family would take you off life support not even two days later.

That is what I have been told, what is on my list - if you could call it that - that has your name at the very top. However, I twirl my fingers in order to view your entire life within a seconds You had dreams, like everyone did, and you were surprisingly religious. Not one of the extreme ones that attend their church or synagogue every day, but one that silently knows that there is a higher power other than them - and accepts it.

I respect that about you.

You also have a small, caring family. Not many relatives, but enough that you have never really been alone.

Education always came easily to you. You are a bright mind, your brain like a pink sponge, willing to absorb any knowledge thrown at you. Most humans these days learn what they need to and move on, not taking the time to take in extra details to better enrich their life.

Another thing to gain my respect.

It is your more recent days that have intrigued me the most.

The hard times of the economy had finally struck home for you. You were barely surviving on the fringes, going directly from work to home, or vice versa, and your family couldn't lend you any money. It was hard for them, too.

If you were to be honest with yourself, dying wouldn't have been so bad at that point. No more worrying about bills or being able to buy food and other necessities.

Yet, you trudge on.

So as I am about to appear in the driver’s path, which would cause him to swerve and head straight for you before either of you can blink... I pause.

Something about you has sparked my interest.

Something has made me reconsider your death.

No, no, do not think that I will let you live. You shall simply die a more suitable death. One that will make headlines. One that will be talked about for days, sometimes weeks, depending on who knew you and who did not.

So instead of making the already drunk motorist end your short life, I instead arrange for a tiny piece of gravel to wedge into the gears and motors of his engine.

That night, you spend most of your time giving a witness's testimony to the police, being one of the first-hand viewers of the drivers "untimely demise".

I see you there, sitting in your living room with a small bowl of popcorn on your lap.

It was not out of boredom that you had decided to indulge yourself in a rented movie and the buttery snack. No, you were rewarding yourself. A promotion had just been given at your workplace, and you were the lucky recipient. Things appeared to be turning around for you.

It has been a week since you narrowly avoided a planned death, and I fear that God is becoming angered with me. Yet I cannot bring myself to kill you. So many ideas had been recycled through my brain. From observing you from a distance alone, I cannot deem any death worthy for you. Maybe, if I were to insert myself directly, the perfect death would become clear.

I see you there, sitting on the opposite end of the club. Bright neon lights flash about, casting your face in and out of shadow. You are oblivious to those around you, staring off into space. Due to my silently whispered suggestions in your ear, you found yourself driving from work to the club. I was already there, waiting. My invisible presence was no longer needed - I gave myself form. Tall, strong, and domineering. There is no need to fabricate a false background, for now I am a tourist, a faux human.

My now colored eyes - violet, I believe - draw yours so that they meet. As if only now just noticing you, I cross the room with ease and sit across from you. A small smile curls my lips upwards like burning paper edges. "You are alone, da?"